Daddy Issues

[vagabond]

Daddy Issues

 

Hey everyone... first post here. Definitely happy I found this place- haven’t really found an alternative for people sharing stories, especially pertaining to this sort of subject matter. Loosely based on a series of encounters many years ago, but ones that I think back to a good amount. Decided to write about it. I was probably 21 or 22 at the time. Names, events, and descriptions have been modified for fun and because I can’t remember everything anyway. I hope some of you enjoy it.

 

--

 

My stomach felt hot; the type of warmth that twists your gut on an empty stomach with nerves. And despite the beads of sweat dripping down my face, the rest of me was freezing.

 

Standing outside the townhouse unit, bundled up in an oversized maroon hoodie and a pair of baggy black jeans, my hands were crossed and tucked under my armpits, teeth chattering as I waited in the chilly doorway. Even in the dark I could see the steamy clouds of breath with each exhale, and the gentlest draughts sent shivers across the sheet of sweat forming on my face.

 

I was beginning to wonder if this had been a bad idea. It wasn’t that I minded the cold; the cold and I usually got along. But it was distinctly sobering. And the buzz from earlier was beginning to subside, leaving room for the more sensible parts of my brain to enter. And they were beginning to suspect that I was perhaps biting off more than I could chew.

 

The cum threatening to leak out of my hole also raised a good point. My ex, Sam, had been especially rough today. Was I really up for more after that? Shouting at me while he fucked me like a ragdoll, twisting my sensitive nipples painfully until I arched my back and screamed, then stuffing his tongue down my throat as he emptied into my guts and practically threw my clothes at me afterwards...

 

Sam and I... had issues. But he was also my main and only connection. And he liked the money while I liked to party—sometimes even with him. And our openness with one another tended to increase as a function of tina.

 

Like I said—issues.

 

Mercifully, I was spared further self-reflection when the door clicked and creaked open, revealing a firmly built father-figure who stood a solid six inches taller than me. I would have guessed him at roughly six foot two.

 

“Sinking feeling?” I recited from adam4adam, smiling loosely, head crooked off to the side slightly.

 

A grin spread across his face. “Just Chris is fine,” he greeted. “Daniel, right?” I nodded. “Come on in,” he invited, stepping off to the side as the door swung ajar. The contrast couldn’t have been more pronounced as I moseyed on by him. Aside from being substantially taller, Chris was large; broad-shouldered with the beginnings of a healthy paunch. He had the type of body that was once very built but had succumbed to a desk job and too much beer in later life. Atop his head, fiery red hair dotted with grey formed a halo around an emerging bald spot.

 

There was lingering hesitation. But it was also cold and I very much wanted to find some warmth. The husky, broad build attached to the heavy voice was also something of a weakness of mine. So with all this in mind I muted Jiminy and stepped in past the threshold.

 

The instant the door shut I found myself engulfed. Thick, fuzzy arms wrapped themselves around my chest, pulling me close to the grey button-up that draped loosely over the muscle-bear’s torso. Gasping, possibly on cue or as a reflex, I leaned into the embrace and craned my head up, parting my lips as his mouth pressed down on me and pushed his thick tongue inside.

 

Meanwhile, one great big paw found my ass and squeezed my left cheek through the cold fabric, making me jump. He seemed pleased by this—as he pulled away, his face was bright with mischief. “Thanks for coming. I’m glad you could make it,” he growled.

 

“Thanks for having me,” I responded sheepishly. “I’m glad I could come too.”

 

He smirked. “Come on. We’re upstairs,” he instructed, grasping my hand as he lead me up the steps. As he pulled I had to hurry a bit to keep up. Passing the first door on the left, we scurried to the second, at which point Chris shoved it open and pulled me inside.

 

The ceiling lights had been turned off; only the lamps in the corner and on the bedside table were lit, giving the room a dim ambiance. Immediately my eyes glanced to the nightstand- where a pair of old-fashioned glasses sat, their smooth edges catching the low light of the bedroom, making the red of the drink inside blush a deep crimson. Adjacent to it, a pair of syringes nestled together conspicuously. And below, a bag of crystals rested beside glass pipe and a little blue pill.

 

At the sight of the needles, my heart began to pound. “It’s all right there,” I murmured. There was that doubt again. Was this a good idea. It wasn’t much of a question. But it might be a fun idea, I argued, and in many ways that was far more compelling.

 

Either oblivious to my uncertainty or electing to move past it, Chris was already retrieving the glasses. Smiling welcomingly, he offered one. “It’s G. And Gatorade. You said you’ve done G?”

 

I nodded, and reached out to accept. “Yeah. Thanks,” I murmured. Admittedly, I kind of hated G but declining felt rude. And anything to take the edge off sounded good so I smiled politely and braced for the worst.

 

Nodding, he raised his glass. “Cheers,” he said, then clinked and chugged it back in one great gulp with what I assume was the Viagra, inviting me to follow suit. Following his lead, I drank the poorly masked acrid flavour, downing it in two swigs.

 

Grimacing as I set the cup down, I sunk down onto the bed and reached for my shoulders, peeling away the thick layers of clothing I’d come wrapped in. Wiping my damp face against the inside of the scratchy fabric as it slid past my smooth stomach, the hoodie pooled messily on the floor. Meanwhile, Chris licked his lips and undid his belt, pulling the leather strap from outside his jeans as his murky eyes watched me undress.

 

As my pants and boxers fell down around my lightly haired legs, showing off my freshly shaven groin, I could feel the buzz on my skin from his eyes outlining me- tracing over my lithe form as he drew his mental image.

 

Looking back at him, by comparison he was a giant- I was barely five foot eight, with dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and what could readily be described as a pallid complexion. Where my face was clean-shaven conceal my years, he wore his time with pride. I had no illusions that he was likely close to lapping both my weight and age; if I was a hundred and forty pounds, I estimated Chris at around two sixty. Maybe more. In his forties, if adam4adam was to be believed.

 

In truth, I’d been very surprised when he’d even responded. But then we started talking and he rather directly advised that I was his type. And he was definitely mine. And despite the remnants of tina from a cloudy overcast, I could feel my cock twitch in anticipation.

 

As he sat down next to me, I could feel the bed sag around him, displacing the mattress such that I popped up a bit. Pulling me close, I could see that his pupils were dilated like mine. I smiled. “Been having fun?” I joked.

 

“Yeah, but just by myself tonight,” he replied, then all but dragged me onto his lap. Turning me around to face him, he seemed delighted to find how pliable and malleable my light body was in his hands, and I eagerly bent into his touch.

 

“I’m glad we could fix that,” I returned wanly.

 

He let out a chuckle. Digging his fingers into the smooth face of my ass, he began to peel the globes apart, making me shiver as I leaned against his chest.

 

Then a probing finger touched my wet entrance. He paused. “What’s this?”

 

My heart skipped a beat. “Oh,” I responded nervously. Instinctively my body moved to pull back, but then one of his hands rose and it was futile- like a steel cable across my back, locking me in place.

 

“That,” I said slowly, my mouth suddenly feeling very dry, “That would be my ex.”

 

A moment of silence fell upon us. The hand digging into my pucker pulled back and I managed to wrestle my face to the side. From the corner of my eye I could see him looking at his paw, examining the sheen of translucent cum on the tip of his index finger.

 

To my surprise, he licked it.

 

“Hot,” he responded, then reached back down, gathering more of the viscous fluid that had just started to leak out slowly onto his jeans. Once satisfied, I felt the arm on my back ease up and he let me pull back, only to press the cum-soaked finger against my lips.

 

My dick immediately sprang to life.

 

“Was it any good?” he asked as my mouth accepted the offering, swirling the tongue around his fingertip as he watched me lap away Tom’s juices.

As the finger left my mouth, I licked my lips. “It was... alright, I guess. Kind of rough.”

 

“I see,” he returned softly. “You like rough?”

 

My voice hitched. Oh if only you knew, my brain snickered. On the outside, my voice returned coyly, “Sometimes. Maybe. Depends on the other person.”

 

“I see.” Then a pause. All I could really feel was his fingers stroking my back gently. I began to wonder if I’d done something wrong.

 

“Chris?” I asked.

 

“Are you sure about this?” he asked slowly, carefully.

 

“Sure about what?” I echoed.

 

And then suddenly I was facing the bedside table. Following his bicep to forearm to outstretched fingers, I spied the instruments from earlier—specifically the rigs. “This,” he clarified.

 

Oh. That. My stomach knotted. I licked my lips. “I think so.”

 

“Think?” he repeated. Heavy hands stroked my arm, soothing and warm. I nestled in closer, enjoying the arm around my waist.

 

A moment passed. Then another. Words were suddenly tough. I opened my mouth to speak but everything snagged and I gave up, shutting my mouth as I swallowed the lump forming in my throat.

 

“Daniel...” he said gently, nearly making me jump. “It’s okay if you just want to smoke. We’re going to have a good time either way, right?”

 

“I know but...”

 

“But what?” he asked softly.

 

Well, there it was; I wasn’t going to be allowed indecision here. And he had very graciously offered me a way out. My eyes wandered to the loaded pipe. The tina had melted into the lower hemisphere, giving it a pearly look. And in that pearly gloss there was something comfortably familiar to it. But as my gaze wandered back to the pair of syringes, all loaded and set aside for us, my heart pounded inside my chest. Excitement crept upon me. Sucking in a deep breath, I provided my answer before I could formulate a proper case against it. “I want to try it,” I admitted. “With you.”

 

Chris stared at me for a good minute. Slowly, an eager smile spread across his face. “Good.” He almost sounded relieved.

 

With the G beginning to hit me, a clumsy warmth had radiated outwards from my gut and sunk into the extremities where it settled. Messily, I shuffled off Chris’s lap, planting a kiss on his fuzzy cheek as I went. Rising from the bed, he gathered one of the syringes and looked around for a moment, brow furrowed in contemplation, before opening the drawer and retrieving a bright orange rubber strap and a pair of square swab packets.

 

Settling down in front of me, kneeling to keep himself level, he tied the rubber band around my arm. “Make a fist.” Within a few moments, he’d found the vein. Tearing the packet with his front teeth, he wiped the faint bump with an alcohol swab and licked his lips, eyes narrowed in focus as the tip of the needle approached the raised flesh. “Let me know if it hurts. At all. Ok?”

 

I nodded, sucking in a breath to brace myself. I didn’t like needles. Probably the main reason I hadn’t learned how to do this myself. Or done this.

 

Well, that and Sam didn’t like them either.

 

The prick through skin stung but only momentarily. Subsiding as quickly as it came, Chris glanced up at me, prompting me to shake my head. Nodding, he slowly he pulled back on the plunger, drawing a flash of blood. “Anything?” he asked. Once more I shook my head. “Good.” And then he pressed forward, unloading the chemicals into my arm. Wasting no time, he smoothly retracted the needle, placed a cotton-ball on the entry point, and released the orange band from my arm. “Arm up. Hold that. And lie back,” he instructed.

 

Hand above my head, holding the ball in place as told, I sunk back onto the bed and wondered when it would hit me. It wasn’t long. Within maybe two seconds I could feel my skin flush, like I’d suddenly been plugged into the wall and electrocuted. Coursing over my arms, finding my chest and stomach, traveling down into my legs and toes, then all the way up my neck. Like a tingling, tickling fire the burning feeling built in my throat, rapidly reaching a fever pitch and I coughed hard, involuntarily releasing the cotton as I clutched my chest and heaved. With each retching gasp, pleasure ripped through my body, making me shake as I rode the wave.

 

Above, Chris simply watched, smiling from ear to ear as I unraveled in front of him.

 

Whether it was fifteen seconds or five minutes before I regained the ability to speak I do not know. What I do recall is what I said. “Holy fuck.” The remark was whispered as my hands moved on their own accord—up to my face, then down across my chest, and experimentally grazing my swollen nipples. Then they migrated south, detouring at my cock, exploring my twitching hole, and completing their lap by returning to my face.

 

Everything twitched. My skin buzzed. And there was a ringing in my ears that made everything seem so close and far at the same time.

 

“It’s... I can’t... oh my god...” I stammered, panting on the bed. In my head the apprehensions were melting away—reservations disappearing in a maelstrom of heat—leaving nothing but impulse, fantasy, and want. Everything felt like a good idea. Cum, piss, cocks, toys, fists, pain, humiliation- my mind jumped from idea to idea, pirouetting from scene to scene, electrified by the prospect of my current companion holding my hand as we delved into pig hell. Roaring through my mind, the need to be used like a fuck-toy all but raced through my head, liberated from its cage by the chemicals hijacking me. Peeling my hands away from my face, I turned to Chris. “It’s so much,” I whispered.

 

To this, Chris chuckled, spotting his own vein as he aimed the syringe. “Just breathe, baby,” he instructed. “I’ll be there soon.”

 

His cough was considerably less laboured. And as the strap fell away he began to undress, shucking his loose button-up over his shoulders, allowing me to see his powerful biceps and thick chest muscles that were loosely covered by red and gray hair. And, deliciously, a pair hairy armpits that reeked with sweat.

 

Reflexively, I licked my lips.

 

Then he began to remove his jeans, unfastening the button and sliding them past his hairy legs as he removed them with his boxers. He was already getting hard- between his legs sat a chubby cock, nestled in a patch of red hair and two huge, low-hanging balls.

 

Resting his weight on his forearm, he settled on his side next to me. “So,” he asked, licking his fingers before pressing his hand against my chest. “How are you feeling?” The bass tones of his voice were lightened by amusement as his finger and thumb found one of my swollen nipples. Inhaling sharply as he rolled them between his heavy digits, I let out a yelp as he gave a quick squeeze.

 

Finding my bearings, riding the exhilarating pleasure, I managed to suck in a lungful of air. “Amazing,” I breathed, rising from the bed, biting my lip as I took in his full naked body- from his huge hands to his growing dick, to the powerful centre that connected them all. Imagining my holes used like sleeves for every part sticking out of him—a human waste receptacle for his cum and piss. Someone’s boy to use. His boy to use.

 

“Better than puffing it?” he teased, grinning from ear to ear.

 

“Definitely,” I agreed.

 

“Good,” he growled, pulling me close in a crushing kiss.

 

Breathless as we broke away, I felt giddy. Suckling his neck, I moved in close, balancing myself on my knees around one of his resting thighs. I needed to taste him. Reaching gently for one of his arms, I touched the thin layer of fur, then lightly lifted it with his assistance above his head and dug my tongue into his hairy pit.

 

With him palming the back of my head to pull me closer, I inhaled the heavy, musky smell and my body jolted with excitement. Lapping at the sweaty, salty, acidic flavour I drank greedily until there was nothing left and let out a pleading noise. Above, he chuckled throatily and released my face as the other arm rose in an invitation that I was happy to accept.

 

Electing to not grip my head this time, his free hand found its way to my ass-cheeks, squeezing them hard enough to make me yelp as I continued to service him. Between the smooth globes his fingers crawled, teasing my hole as it traced the outside, gathering the leaking cum. Shifting my weight, I arched my back, inviting the finger for closer inspection.

 

Still slightly slick with Sam’s load, his ring finger pushed onwards roughly, making every nerve tingle. But all I could think was more.

 

“Please,” I begged.

 

“Please what, boy?” he teased, extracting the intruding digit only to thrust it back inside.

 

Pulling away from his pit, I looked at the heavy, hungry expression that had overtaken Chris’s initially welcoming features. Something distinctly dark had taken over his face—the same unhinged need the chemicals had unleashed in myself, but funneled through his want to control. My chest fluttered in delight. “I want you to use me,” I whispered. “To fuck me. To fill me.”

 

Studying my face, all twisted with need, his dilated eyes narrowed slightly, his breathing soft and slow. “I’m gonna do a lot more than that, Daniel.”

 

My breathing hitched. “I know,” I whispered.

 

“I’m gonna ruin you,” he growled, burying his face in my neck, sucking the soft skin as he bit down. I let out a groan, feeling the skin tingle as his teeth sunk. Traveling up to my ear, he licked as he went, nipping my earlobe before settling his mouth just outside. I could hear his heavy panting and it made me crackle with excitement. “And you’d just let me, wouldn’t you,” he hissed, digging his finger deeper, coating it in Sam’s splooge, wriggling it to ease it in to the knuckle. “I bet you’d let a hundred guys fuck you if I wanted.”

 

“And then some,” I agreed softly.

 

“Two at a time even, all snug inside your little boy hole, just to make sure everyone’s served,” he growled as he pulled back only to slip his middle finger inside alongside, making sure I felt the stretching as his fingernail scraped against my insides.

 

“As many as you’d want to fit,” I whimpered, revelling in the burn as he worked my hole.

 

His voice made a rumble of appreciation. “Get that hole open, puffy, and swollen. Just oozing with cum,” he hissed, turning his fingers as he spoke. “Running down your legs in streams.”

 

“Stuffing it back inside me with your hands,” I whispered, my heartbeat quickening as the words formed. “Shoving it into my guts with your arm. Cleaning every cock that blows inside me with my mouth.”

 

Groaning, his fingers left my ass and were quickly shoved into my mouth. Nursing them, my tongue swirled around the faint taste of my juices mixed with the salty, musky flavour of Sam. All the while, his expression darkened, his teeth coming together. Glancing down, I saw his cock stood upright, thick veins bulging up every inch of the beer-can shaft, leading up towards a mushroom head leaking pre-cum.

 

Pulling away from the fingers I sunk down, arching my back as my legs stretched to balance my body on my hands and knees. Up close I estimated him at approaching nine inches, maybe eight-and-a-half. Inhaling through my nose I took in the pungent aroma of dried piss mixed with sweat and his natural musky odour. Entranced, my mouth opened, drawing the head inside as my hand reached to grip the thick shaft.

 

Making a noise of appreciation, he opened his legs a bit, running his fingers through my hair and resting them on the back of my head gently.

 

Now, full disclosure—I am far from the best at blowjobs in the universe. And in many positions I frequently have trouble deep-throating. But in the moment, with the tina racing through me, I thought I could do anything and I found myself relaxing my jaw, easing the muscles and sliding down on him as best I could.

 

It was somewhat successful.

 

Letting out a groan as his head pressed my throat muscles, not quite unclenched enough or at the best angle for passage, his shaft slipped and slid along my wet mouth. My glands were working overtime, pumping out saliva as I dragged my tongue from trunk to top, swirling around his glans as I came up. Up and down I went, swallowing the excess spit as his hand guided me with gentle pressure.

 

“Wait,” he grunted.

 

Popping up for air, I awaited further instruction as he released my head and pointed to my crotch. “Bring that ass here,” he ordered.

 

Obediently, I turned around, balancing on my hands and knees. Setting my legs around his thick torso, his back sunk into the mattress. Shuffling along until my mouth was lined up a perfect forty five degree angle with his cock and my ass stood above his pecs, his hands reached up, gripping my ass-cheeks hard as he spread them wide. The bed creaked—reacting to him rising—and I lowered my open mouth back onto his cock as his face pushed into my crack, beard scratching the inside of my cheeks as he dug in.

 

Locked in his powerful grip, I inhaled through my nose, relaxing my throat as I measured the angle and aligned myself accordingly. And then I went slid down, feeling his cock brush against the back of my gullet. Easing up further, the entrance opened, allowing him to push past my throat muscles with a slight raise of his hips as I buried my nose in his pubes.

 

Letting out of a guttural groan as I took him to the root, I could feel the sound vibrate against my ass, making me tingle with anticipation as my throat worked his massive rod. Meanwhile, he paused momentarily to stare at my just-leaking hole, before his wide tongue gave one long, slow lick against my puckered opening, sending shivers up my spine as I fucked my face on him.

 

“Fucking hot hole,” he growled, then dug in, all but mashing his face into me. Scratching around my hole with his beard in the best way possible his thick tongue plunged into the load left by Sam. Sucking and slurping, making my ass as wet as he could as he sought depth I lost focus, tingling from end to end, and pulled up involuntarily to nurse his head.

 

Below, his hips bucked.

 

Right. Refocusing despite the warmth and tingling in my hole, I relaxed once more, breathing through my nose as I took him down. Pulling away from my hole for just a moment, he gave my ass a slam. “Tastes so good,” he rumbled, then dug back in.

 

Slick with spit, acclimatizing to the motion and high as a kite, I got bolder. Pulling all the way up his head, I’d spend a moment focusing there, then lower myself and push past the throat muscles, holding him down as I swallowed around him. Then repeat. Following this rhythm, he’d dig hard, using his index and middle fingers to pry me open as he tried to stuff his whole tongue up my ass. Then as I came up he’d pull back, lapping at the salty cum, spit, and ass-juices that he’d displaced. Punctuating with the odd nip or bite against my cheeks, or stinging slap against my ass, we continued like this for several minutes—maybe five, maybe ten, it’s hard to say. Our cadence was broken by him pushing my waist off his body.

 

“Get up,” he instructed. Pulling my mouth away from his cock, I looked over my shoulder. Face red, he was breathing was hard. “I want you to sit on it.”

 

Crawling forward, I straddled his lap as he sat up. Guiding his cock to my slick hole, his hand grabbed my back and pulled me into a deep kiss, making me taste the mix of his spit, my ass, and Sam’s salty cum as he pushed his tongue into my mouth. Meanwhile, my hand gripped his slippery cock, holding it in my hand as it rubbed against my entrance.

 

Briefly, Chris pulled away from the kiss. Reaching over to the bedside table his arm dug haphazardly through the contents of the drawer until he retrieved a tube of silicon lube and a small bottle of poppers. Popping the lids he greased his shaft and held the poppers below my nostrils, encouraging me to inhale. As the heat blossomed in my chest it mingled with the existing high and made my whole body shiver, muscles melting into putty. Meanwhile he capped the poppers and set them aside, placing his hands back to my sides. “Breathe and sit,” he commanded, then sunk back onto the mattress, placing his hands on my waist to hold me in place.

 

Slowly, I began to lower myself.

 

Despite being wet with spit, lube, and cum, it still took effort to accommodate him. Pushing past the sphincter, he slid in, stretching as my muscles groaned and ached at the intrusion. Gasping, I set my hands on his stomach, shutting my eyes as I took a deep breath.

 

“It’s so much,” I whimpered.

 

“I know, baby. Just breathe,” he encouraged.

 

It was a slow process—I had no doubts that my guts had been roughed up but in a twisted way it made me want it more. Below, he’d stroke my sides reassuringly, telling me how good of a boy I was as I slid down inch by inch. Finally I felt it—the pubic hair rubbing against my pucker. I opened my eyes and glanced below.

 

“It’s all there,” I breathed.

 

“I know,” he confirmed, grinning from ear to ear. “How do you feel?” he asked.

 

I shifted my hips. “Full,” I said blithely. “Very full. But good.”

 

“Good,” he echoed. Reaching to the side, he retrieved the poppers. “Take some,” he instructed, handing them off to me. “I’m going to start moving.”

 

Nodding, I uncapped the lid and took two long, heavy inhales on each side and focused on the feeling in my ass—each inch stretching my hole around him. In time with the heat spreading through my body, his hands returned their grip to my waist making my hips shift—as if doing so would help him get in further. Above I closed the bottle and tossed it aside. Pausing to appreciate the depth, we both stared at each other for just moment. Then slowly, I raised my hips only to come slamming down on him as his vice-like grip pulled at the exact moment his hips jerked in a brutal thrust.

 

Establishing this as our rhythm, my legs rose once more. On cue, his legs pumped as his arms yanked me back down. Letting out a cry, I settled into the pace, holding onto him as we pushed onwards.

 

Buried so far down that his balls slapped up against me as he pounded, my cock was only half-hard from the tina but it didn’t stop it from leaking pre-cum all over his stomach. Battering my prostate, all but forcing the fluid out of me, he drove in harder and harder with every shove.

 

More. Please, God, more.

 

All the while, Chris kept his eyes locked on mine, growling intermittently as he fucked Sam’s cum deeper into my ass. “Fucking slut,” he snarled, his hips lurching as he buried himself into me. “Seeing someone before me.” Another thrust, making my guts stretch as I gasped. “Took his load.” Thrust. “Then came right here for more.” Another thrust and I found myself breaking apart, dissolving into whimpers on top of him.

 

“Yes,” I moaned.

 

“Could have just come here,” he growled. “Instead made me wait all fucking day for you. But you needed his load, didn’t you?”

 

“I did,” I gasped.

 

“Sleazy, slutty boy. Coming over with some man’s load up your ass. Just can’t help yourself.”

 

I couldn’t make words. He was so deep. Practically punching my prostate with his cock-head, I let out a noise halfway between a gurgle and a groan, covering my face with my hands as he took control of the pace.

 

“Isn’t. This. Better.” Each word was punctuated with a brutal thrust. Knocked off balance, I threatened to tumble over and was forced me to lean forwards, pressing my hands against his pecs for support.

 

“So much better,” I wailed.

 

“Fucking right it is.” And with that, he gripped harder, digging his fingers into my sides—I had no illusions there would be bruises later—and pushed our combined weight forward. Letting out a yelp as I toppled over, my back hit the mattress. Then he gathered my legs and pulled them above his shoulders, dragging me up so he had a forty-five degree angle to drive into my hole.

 

I couldn’t tell you how long he fucked me like that for—I just remember holding onto the bed and moaning as he pumped in and out of me, rocking my hips to meet his thrusts because I couldn’t get him far enough inside me. And then the furrowing of his brow as he shut his eyes and grit his teeth, signalling the end of the moment as he let out a guttural roar, slamming into me as far as he could. Inside I felt the delicious wet warmth spread inside my ass making my heart race as my legs squeezed him and my arms came up to hold onto him. My face buried itself in his neck.

 

Being careful not to crush me under his weight, Chris came down, eyes shut, propping himself up on his forearms for support. My stomach was wet. More precum had been fucked out of me. I was even almost hard. And as we pulled away, and he opened his eyes, his mouth parted slightly, panting, studying me.

 

“Slut,” he said softly.

 

Through laboured breathing, I nodded.

 

“My slut,” he corrected. And with that remark we reached a mutual understanding—that this was the price of admission for more.

 

Gazing up into his murky blue eyes, my breath caught in my throat. Covered in our mingled sweat, skin pulsing with electricity, heart racing with chemically induced emotion, we both already knew my answer. “Your slut,” I agreed.

 

 

[Qban]

OH.  FUCK.  YES.  MORE PLEASE.

[tinkerblizz]

More please

[gapesofwrath]

oh fuck yes! a gorgeous story.. just how a boy should be used. would love to read more 

[AZpighole]

Very nice, live the corruption that's beginning here. Looking forward to see how far it goes. 

[shinelover]

I think I might have some serious Daddy Issues, too, after reading that! Where do I find one like him? Woof!!!

[Headstrange]

Amazing. Go on!

[bjbottom]

I need more .... I hope Chris is going to get a lot rougher on Daniel. 

[onlyraw]

Really great writing- and very hot!!

[FFun2BB]

On 10/15/2019 at 6:06 PM, vagabond said:

“My slut,” he corrected. And with that remark we reached a mutual understanding—that this was the price of admission for more.

 

Gazing up into his murky blue eyes, my breath caught in my throat. Covered in our mingled sweat, skin pulsing with electricity, heart racing with chemically induced emotion, we both already knew my answer. “Your slut,” I agreed.

 

#vagabond .... this might be your first story BUT KEEP GOING as you started so well ... and described the momenT so perfectly ... how our hero feels - how his body reacts - what he feels... and the wish for more and total destruction ...

 

Please continue .... you have all our attention and WE ALL WANT YOU CONTINUE... don't let us down!!!

[SlampaBay]

Excellent writing. Strong unique story. Hot sex. The specificity of experience in your point of view.  Everything good writing needs, you have. Thank you.

Now just keep writing.  This story. Another story.  Doesn't matter.  Just keep writing.  Please.

 

Edited April 15, 2020 by nycnastyboy

[Guest Ausbttmnboiraw]

This is a fkn not story that makes this boi want to find a daddy who can treat him like this 

[Sfmike64]

That’s quite a sexy ass son......I’d  breed it.

[Guest Ausbttmnboiraw]

19 minutes ago, Sfmike64 said:

That’s quite a sexy ass son......I’d  breed it.

Well as soon the lockdown is over just tell me where to come daddy... hope u like to party and show your bois who’s in charge 

[vagabond]

Part 2 – Pipe Dreams

Hey... so it has definitely been a while and I’m sorry about that. After posting I swear I originally intended to write more. Then work got crazy. Then it quieted down and I went, “Oh man what if it’s been too long? Wouldn’t it be weird randomly adding more to this after like three months?” So I had like a quarter of this part done but then I stopped in an awkward, self-conscious spinout.

But then I got put on leave because of, well, you know what’s going on right now. Which... brings us here!

Anyway, I hope at least even just one person enjoys this. I’m actually really nervous about posting this because I think this is where my writing and how I want to write this formally deviates from the typical structure of story here (see warning section below) and I know straight up that it won’t be kosher for a lot of people.

So I’m definitely pre-shook but fuck it. If it sucks and everyone hates it so be it LOL.

Okay—I promise I’m done. Enjoy! Maybe! And thank you to anyone who deigns to leave constructive feedback, thank you!

---

Writer’s warning: Feelings. Icky, disgusting feelings. If those are radioactive to you, or you’re just not about them when looking for a porn story, do not advance—there are plenty of great alternatives here that aren’t... this.

---

 

Still caught in the afterglow, breathing hard and heavy, my skin buzzed and tingled as I rested below him. Staring up into his stare, his mouth slightly parted, eyes dark and narrowed, it was hard to tell exactly where his mind was. Electing to take a risk, I leaned up and planted a soft kiss on his fuzzy cheek.

 

Sinking back into the mattress, I watched for any shifts in his expression. And while most of his expression remained unchanged, his mouth had curved ever so slightly. Lifting one of his big hands to my face, he brought the backside of his ring and middle fingers against my smooth cheek, brushing gently.

 

“So cute,” he murmured.

 

Meanwhile, still squeezed inside my hole, his cock had slowly begun to soften. And while still fairly snug, the combined grease of the lube and loads mixed inside me were starting to loosen its fit. And as my walls attempted to squeeze back into place I could feel him sliding out, just a few inches but enough for him to take notice. In response, his hips shifted, pushing his half-hard cock back into my battered prostate. Gasping as he gently churned the mixed loads, my mouth fell open.

 

“You like?” he teased.

 

Nodding happily as he continued to grind, I reached down, fiddling with my own cock with one hand as my other reached for my nipples to gently stroke the tips.

 

“Good,” he growled, grating harder, all but mashing his pubes into my tender ring. “Definitely gonna do that again, but right now I want a puff. Join me?”

 

Smiling faintly, I nodded again. “I’d like that.”

 

Giving my ass one last hard slog for good measure, Chris pulled away.

 

Exiting with an unceremonious ‘plop’, his half-hard cock flopped about, slapping my wet pucker with its heavy head. Wincing at the loss as it hit me, the compulsion to fill that wet, wanting space with something—anything—spread down my spine and settled in my guts as my ring flexed and relaxed, breathing open and shut in protest.

 

Meanwhile, Chris had sat up, pulling me closer with one arm while his other reached for the pipe at the bedside table. But halfway up his body, head pillowed by his round tummy, my gaze was drawn elsewhere—pulled to his dick, which rested against his leg, where a viscous puddle was beginning to form on his inner thigh. Magnetized, I slid down the mattress.

 

Face to face with his glossy cock, I licked my lips in anticipation, heart pounding as I scooted closer and inhaled the musky smell of cum, our mixed sweat, the faint smell of my ass, and lube mixing together into a perfect makeshift cologne. Smeared around his head and shaft, the ropes of cum had been squished and spread, coating him in a thick glaze. Needing a taste, I leaned forward as I heard the butane torch click to life, and wrapped my mouth around his head.

 

While he smoked, I sucked, curling my tongue around every contour as I lapped hungrily at the pungent mix encasing him. Digging into the slit, cleaning away the mess we’d made, I slid down to the base so I could delve into every nook and cranny, feeling him harden as the torch fizzed in the background—

 

Then I heard another click, followed by a soft thump on the bed. Digging under my armpit, one of his hands yanked me away from my task.

 

Caught off guard, I sat stunned and mouth half-opened, wondering if I’d done something wrong, but then he crushed his fuzzy face against mine, exhaling a huge mouthful of smoke as he locked our mouths together. Cheeks expanding, I inhaled sharply, held in place by the hand on the back of my head. Shutting my eyes, I held the puff for a few seconds before giving it back to him, which he’d hold before shot-gunning it back to me.

 

I couldn’t tell you how many times we passed it back and forth. What I do recall is getting dizzy—my head spinning as the tina hit and made my skin crawl. And when he finally pulled away my lungs gasped and coughed, gulping air greedily.

 

“Good boy,” he murmured, settling in closer, holding the pipe just outside my mouth. “Now your turn,” he instructed. Obediently, I wrapped my lips around the tip as my fingers pinched the shaft. Then the torched clicked. Rolling the bowl slowly, the clouds began to billow, swirling into little wisps as they gathered into thick puffs.

 

To test, I blew ever so gently, and when the wispy stands rose from the little vent I knew it was time to inhale. Beginning slowly, I could feel my chest rising and keep going. Within a few moments I knew I had already filled my lungs and could feel myself straining to hold in more but Chris kept the lighter burning. Glancing up at him, I began to pull away but he shook his head, his arm keeping me firmly in place. “Keep going,” he urged. “Want my boy spun.”

 

Not wanting to displease him, I fought and strained, eyes all but rolling back into my head as I held on—

 

When he finally pulled the pipe away, I sputtered, shrouding us in billowing smoke as he set the pipe aside. Head swimming, I felt dizzy—but good dizzy. Like my mind was floating.

 

Planting his hand on my shoulder, Chris gave me a curious look. “Everything okay?”

 

Thoughts were difficult—had to piece them together a bit before I could get the words out. “Yeah. It’s just—it’s just a lot,” I stuttered, smiling at him.

 

Smiling back, he shook his head slightly, before pulling me back up the bed. “Come here,” he instructed, all but dragging me on top of him. Resting my head on his shoulder, hands on his chest, I began to relax, following the motion of his fingers as they stroked my back.

 

“Thanks,” I said softly.

 

Remaining silent, Chris simply planted a kiss on the top of my head, grazing his calloused digits along the soft space of my back as we settled in together.

 

Descending upon us lightly, silence fell, enveloping us in the lull of the interim. But I was high as a kite—and as the moments passed peacefully, anxiety crept in, urging me to find new, exciting ways to insert my foot into my mouth.

 

“I’m sorry—” I stammered, lifting my head off his chest, compelled to explain the downtime. “I just don’t normally do this much and I’m really liking this but it’s a lot and—”

 

Chuckling heartily, he silenced me by pulling my head back down. Taking a moment to nuzzle my damp hair, we simply laid there, and I found myself following the rhythm of his breathing as we settled back in. Then his baritone voice rumbled gently. “I said I wanted you spun. You’re spun. I see no problem here. We’re just taking a short detour.”

 

And maybe it really was that simple. Fears assuaged, I settled back in, shutting my eyes. “Really?”

 

“Of course. Hell, if I was up to me you’d be further but that’s clearly not a good idea right now.”

 

“Oh,” I returned blithely.

 

Pulling me further up so we were face to face, he fixed his dark blue eyes on my brown ones. Narrowing intensely into a dark stare, he licked his lips. “You know, you said some pretty filthy things back there,” he murmured.

 

“I suppose I did,” I responded softly.

 

“Who was that and how do I get him to play?” he probed bemusedly, reaching further as his hand wandered back to the crack of my ass.

 

My breathing hitched. “You just have to ask.”

 

“Hmm...” he hummed, tracing the perimeter in little circles. “I’d like that. And aside from getting his little boy-hole plowed, what else does he like getting into?”

 

“Whatever you like,” I returned obediently, spreading my legs to assist his curious digits. Frowning bemusedly for a moment, Chris leaned forward and bit my ear gently, drawing a yelp.

 

“That wasn’t the question,” he corrected. “I asked what you like. Not what I like.”

 

Nodding, I sighed lightly as his mouth pulled away. “I see the distinction.”

 

Crack!

 

I winced at the stinging impact as his hand retracted from my ass cheek. “That’s not an answer, Daniel,” he observed, returning to his original route as his paw found my hole once more. Gasping, my hands dug harder into his pectorals, reacting to the two rough fingers sliding up along the tender tissues.

 

Well, if that wasn’t a callout. And maybe it was the drugs. Or perhaps the digits burrowing into the mixed mess of semen, relieving the emptiness I’d been feeling. Maybe it was simply the fact that I wasn’t used to being asked that and it was new territory for me. “I have trouble trusting people,” I admitted quietly. “I don’t usually get into that.”

 

“So you let them get into you?” he teased, his expression darkening as he curled his intrusion to briefly brush a nail against my prostate.

 

Yelping as my body all but jerked, his other arm fastened itself around my back, securing me into place as he settled back into the stretching and scissoring motions.

 

“I guess...” I explained, struggling with the words as my head juggled the buzz, what his hand was doing, the earthy smell of his breath, and cogent thoughts. “If I just let them do whatever... it’s fine. Makes sure they have a good time. Maybe they even ask me to come back—it’s just easier that way, isn’t it?”

 

Pausing his ministrations, silence descended once more save for a sharp inhale through his nostrils. I could practically see the gears turning in his brain as the puzzle pieces coalesced. “Is that what happened with—what was name again? From earlier.”

 

Swallowing the lump in my throat, my shoulders began to tense reflexively. “Sam,” I supplied meekly. “His name is Sam.”

 

“Right, him. Is that what happened.”

 

Sighing sadly, I didn’t trust my words and nodded.

 

“I see. And do you actually like that?” he asked, voice low and mild, like his words were wrapped in honey.

 

No, my mind shouted, but my outside words formed differently. “I—I don’t know,” I began shakily. “Maybe? Sometimes, I guess?” But my head was already off the rails, spinning out as panic jerked awake. Elbowing the other emotions away from the dashboard, he slammed the alarm, screeching his siren as the distress signal blared through my brain. “Forget it,” I backpedaled. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It was stupid—I’m stupid—”

 

“Daniel,” he said softly, silencing me with a squeeze.

 

“Yes Chris?” I whispered.

 

“Shut up,” he ordered. “And relax for two seconds.”

 

Inhaling quickly, I held my breath and complied.

 

“I’m liking this. And I want you to want to come back,” he intoned sternly. “But I can only do that if you have a good time too. Now tell me: what do you want?”

 

“I like...” I began slowly, struggling to wrap my head around this, unsure with how to frame the phrasing to make it likable. “I’m sorry—I just need to know. If I say something wrong or that you don’t like—will I get in trouble?”

 

Chuckling, Chris leaned in and licked my ear. “I don’t know, Daniel,” he murmured slyly. “Doesn’t that depend on what it is?”

 

“I guess—I guess that’s reasonable,” I stuttered, trailing off as the thoughts dissolved and took the ground with it. Who was I to argue? It was, after all, a very fair position. Squirming reflexively, my back began to rise, only to meet resistance against the much more powerful arm clasping me against his chest.

 

Sensing my discomfort, Chris held on tighter. “Wait—stop,” he entreated, extracting his fingers from my hole to grip my ass, effectively blocking the only other direction I could have gone. “I was kidding,” he explained, backpedaling as his fingers dug into the soft skin. “I just wanted to—never mind. Please, just relax.”

 

The ‘please’ did it. That and the realization I had no real way out of this if he didn’t want me to. Shocked back to the now, I bottled the feeling and surrendered to his paws locking me in place. “I won’t get in trouble?” I said quietly and held my breath.

 

Chris shook his head. “You won’t get in trouble. Promise.”

 

Exhaling into his chest, I forced out the words. “I want you to own me.”

 

Groaning, he reached for one of my hands and brought it down to his cock. And with just the back of my hand against it, I could feel it hardening again. “Go on,” he hissed.

 

“I want... I want you be your boy. Your slut. Whatever you want to call it.”

 

“Mmmm...” he growled, guiding my fingers so they wrapped around his rising erection. “You really get off on being someone’s bitch, don’t you?”

 

“I do,” I whispered. “But it’s more than that. I want someone to own me, Chris. So... I’m theirs. Like...” Like they want to have me, my mind supplied, but the words died in my throat. Instead, I murmured, “You know what I mean?”

 

His cock pulsed. “I think so,” he purred. “And what can I do to excite my little cum bucket? How do I reward him for a job well done?”

 

There were many answers to this, but I hesitated; my brain had conjured Sam—his face twisted up in rage, shouting because nothing was ever good enough so why even ask—but then the feeling the stroke of his knuckles running down my back and his promise brought me back and when I looked at the pair of big blue eyes I felt my escalating heart-rate ease up. Still... I wasn’t ready to show my whole hand so I volunteered a club. “I... I really like piss,” I admitted. “Drinking it. Or being filled with it. Or even being soaked in it. Just want to serve, really.”

 

“Mmmm. Sounds like my little slut is a bit of people pleaser. And maybe even a bit of a piglet. That right?”

 

“Yes,” I breathed.

 

“Mmmm,” he rumbled, adding the throaty low notes of dominance to the sound. “Does this little piggy want my chem piss?”

 

“Yes,” I begged.

 

“I could bring you to work you know. Strip you buck naked and hide you under my desk. Just fuck and feed you throughout the day so I don’t have to walk to the urinals.”

 

“A Sir shouldn’t have to get up for that,” I agreed demurely, settling back into his shoulder. “Not when he has a boy for that...”

 

“And what happens if my boy can’t handle it?” he growled. “My piss gets pretty rancid you know—I might even want it to be harsh for you. And when you’re feeling sick because you’ve got a gallon of my piss in your belly and can’t take any more, what happens then? Do I get mad?”

 

“I’d think so,” I whimpered.

 

“Mad enough to almost make you keep drinking it anyway, I bet,” he hissed. “Make you gag and choke it down your throat. Maybe even make you hold your ass cheeks apart when we’re home so I can decide how I want to punish your pretty little pink hole—because what boy of mine can’t handle four measly piss loads?”

 

“Whatever you think I deserve,” I whispered.

 

“More,” he instructed. “I want more.”

 

“I... I like being tied up. Blindfolded. Passed around and stretched open. Your arms,” I sputtered, turning my head to the thick layer of hair that ran from the back of his hands up to his powerful biceps. “Your arms are so hot to me. Want them inside me.”

 

“Mmm... you really like being helpless, don’t you?” he breathed, stroking my spine with the hairy back of one hand, as the other returned to my ass. Sliding past my ring with a shove, three of his fingers dug into the soft tissue. Almost pulling me across his chest as he flexed his strength in demonstration, my cock twitched as my heart skipped. “You’re pretty light you know—could probably lift you on one,” he cooed. “Carry you around like my little skin puppet.”

 

“Yes,” I mewled.

 

“Wait here,” he instructed. “Do not run away.”

 

Rising from the bed, Chris shuffled over to the closet. Pulling it open, he sifted through its contents for a few moments, rising to his toes as he reached for the top shelf, involuntarily granting a very nice view of his rather round ass together as he gathered a rather large cardboard box that likely no longer held the vegetables its exterior suggested. I licked my lips. Then he turned, flaunting his cock at full mast as he returned to the bed.

 

Settling back next to me, one of his hands settled on the flaps concealing its contents. Drumming his fingers gently, he paused for a moment, eyes downcast. To my surprise, he paused—he always seemed to know what to say.

 

Settling in patiently, I waited.

 

When he spoke, he spoke quietly. “Everything we’ve talked about—I’m game for. It’s just...” he explained, then trailed off at the end, taking another moment. Unsure whether I was supposed to wait or not, I elected for the comfort of still silence.

 

After a moment, he continued. “I don’t know if I can be as rough or mean as you want me to be.”

 

Eyeing his resting hand, and then his averted posture, I scooted closer. Overlapping his chunky paw with my spindly ones, I leaned over the box so our arms touched and rested my head on his shoulder. “What do you mean?” I asked softly.

 

“Don’t get me wrong—I like to control,” he clarified. “And I’d like to share and stretch your tight little boy-hole until it’s a gaping cunt. And I really want to get my arm so far into your guts that I can parade you around like my favourite sleeve.”

 

This was pushing all my buttons; it was taking a lot of restraint to not just hurl myself onto him. But his tone of concern gave me pause. Setting my pounding chest aside, I removed my head, craning below his I could look up at his surprisingly sober expression. I raised an eyebrow. “What’s the worry then?” I asked delicately.

 

“I like to go slow,” he explained, gesturing to the wall with his free hand as if that somehow made it make more sense. “Work up to things. We’ll need a safe word and I’ll want to cuddle. And I don’t know how that fits into,” he motioned loosely to the space between us, “This.”

 

Smiling wanly, my body leaned in, and I rested my head atop his shoulder. His resting hand was still a lot bigger than mine so it was kind of hard to get my grip around it properly but I managed as best I could and squeezed a bit tighter. “Chris?” I asked quietly, demurely.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I said I want you to own me,” I explained, tone soft and soothing. “That means you have a lot of say in this.”

 

Pausing for a moment, Chris held his breath. Below, I could feel his free arm repositioning, sliding over the two clasping his so we made a little hand sandwich. Holding my little paws in his heavy ones, his mouth turned back to my ear.

 

“My slut,” he said quietly.

 

Sighing contentedly, I nodded slowly, deliberately. “Yes, Chris,” I agreed. “Your slut.”

 

Satisfied with my answer, we remained still for a moment, taking the opportunity to bask in the verbal contract. Then, glancing downwards, my eyes wandered to the cardboard flaps. “So...” I began timidly, wondering if I was inadvertently invoking Pandora with this train of thought: “What’s in the box?”

 

////

 

Clothes. It had been clothes.

 

More specifically, clothes he’d wanted me to wear. Along with a few accessories for himself.

 

Testing the off-white jockstrap he’d supplied, I poked the little pouch concealing my cock and balls. The actual strap sat snug around my waist, but with my tina-dick only standing at quarter-mast the pouch itself was fairly loose. Still, probably better too big than too small. At the base, I could already see a damp spot beginning to emerge where I was leaking. And while I still had the full use of my hands I reached lower, sliding my index finger underneath the foreskin, coating the finger generously before bringing it to my mouth to taste the faintly salty-sweet ooze.

 

Meanwhile, Chris was setting down a cooler he’d retrieved from the kitchen. Clad in just his old army tags and a battered camouflage cap, he glanced around the room, likely trying to judge whether he’d picked the best location for his refreshments. Once satisfied with his choice, he cracked open a cold one. Fixing me with a wry grin, he chugged the lager under a minute, holding eye contact the full time, and then tossed the empty bottle into the trash. “You’ll get yours later,” he explained, winking as he gave his belly a hearty pat.

 

Cheeks flushed, I was unsure how to react—and elected for gratitude. “Thanks,” I said meekly.

 

Practically beaming, he glanced back towards the bucket of beers. “Although, if you’re good, I could probably be persuaded.” He then tipped of his head towards the now-opened vegetable bin. “Have you picked one you like?”

 

I had. Licking my lips, I lifted the bandana from the box delicately. Plain black, save for a thin, fiery-white pattern about a half-inch from the perimeter, I presented him the square sheet. “This one.”

 

Satisfied with my choice, he accepted my offering, folding it by its corners once, then pinching a few inches down the converging slopes to form the edge of the band. With a few quick loops, the makeshift blindfold was formed and pressed against my face, making the world vanish as he tied the ends together behind my skull.

 

With my vision gone, the other senses quickly stepped up to fill the void. Somehow the musky, sweaty, smoky scent that I was quickly beginning to associate with him was stronger and all but suffocated my nose in its aroma. Tentatively, my hand reached up to touch the cloth, feeling the rough cotton between the soft pads of my thumb and forefinger, and gave it a little tug to adjust it.

 

“Too tight?” Chris asked in concern as he circled me, making my skin buzz as he eyed his handiwork.

 

Shaking my head, I settled back into the bed, following his voice and footsteps as I raised my hands in front of my chest in offering. “No, not at all,” I stammered, shivering as he pressed his fuzzy chest to my back. Next to me, the jingle of metal on metal chimed, the leather brushing my arm as he lifted the harness out of the box.

 

“Good. Arms up,” he instructed.

 

Complying, the leather slipped over my head and down my torso. He’d clearly done this before—within moments the diagonal cross-straps were snug across my shoulders, meeting with a cold metal ring in the center of my chest. Meanwhile, behind me, I could feel him fiddling with the tightness, securing the horizontal strap between my belly button and ribcage.

 

“How’s that?” he cooed.

 

Rolling my shoulders to test the tightness, I turned towards his voice. “It’s actually perfect,” I admitted.

 

“Good. Hands.” Obediently, I bent my arms and raised my hands together in offering. Wrapping his arms around my torso, he set to work, collecting my hands in his, fitting the pair leather handcuffs around them as he tightened them around my slender wrists.

 

Breathing heavily into my ear, he gave the tip of my ear a test nibble and shook my arms, making the metal rings of the cuffs jingle against one another. “Too snug?”

 

Tentatively, I slipped my ring finger underneath one of the bands. It fit, albeit with some effort. “Not at all,” I supplied.

 

“Perfect.”

 

“I just didn’t think you were serious,” I confessed.

 

“Why would I not be serious?” he asked gently, snapping the metal bands together with a loud clack. “I asked what you wanted; you said you wanted to be tied up and used like my human cum-rag. That sounds fun to me—doesn’t it sound fun to you?”

 

“Well, yes, but...”

 

“So if I like it,” he interrupted, “And you like it, don’t you agree it would be silly if I wasn’t ready to follow through?”

 

I was cornered. And not just because I was tied up on the bed. “I see your point,” I conceded.

 

“Besides...” he murmured, bumping the top of my head with the brim of his cap as he settled in next to my ear. Then his hands were on me—starting from the bottom of my waist where the band of the jock began, he tugged the strap back to give a little snap, before continuing his calloused fingertips’ journey upwards. Leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake, they brushed from my sides to underarms, eventually settling on the base of my shoulders. “Do you have any idea how good you look to me right now?” he purred.

 

Shaking my head, I was upfront about it. “No,” I responded bluntly.

 

The tip of his large, flat tongue flicked top of my ear. “You look gorgeous,” he breathed.

 

Laughing softly, deflection kicked in, reducing the compliment to a glancing blow. “I bet you say that to all the boys,” I replied nonchalantly, tilting my head to grant better access to the slope of my neck.

 

Accepting the invitation, Chris bit down, forming a seal with his lips as he sunk his teeth into the soft skin. Sucking hard, he drew a gasp as my spine arched—sharp pain jolting outwards from where the pressure was most intense. Whimpering as he increased his pull, his heavy arms squeezed me tight against his torso, crushing my wrists into the cold metal ring as he drew the blood to the surface. Once satisfied with his handiwork he pulled away with a pop, blowing gently on the bruising skin, sending shivers down my back. Flicking the patch with the tip of his tongue, he moved back to my ear. “I really don’t,” he growled.

 

“I’ll take your word for it,” I whispered.

 

Then the pipe was back in my mouth and I heard the click of the torch. “Three big hits, boy,” he instructed. “And pick a safe word.”

 

Surrendering to the waft of the clouds, I huffed and I puffed until my chest was full and by the time I had blown in I could feel the little piggy waking up. My head was spinning again—a spiralling mess of sensations crawling along my skin as even the faintest breeze of his breath set me off. Thoughts were difficult, so I deferred to the first word that came to mind. “Zebra,” I supplied.

 

“Zebra it is,” he growled. And then the box flew off the bed and his hands were on my chest, all but shoving onto my back. Letting out a surprised yelp as I hit the mattress, he climbed on top, straddling my chest. Flopping against my mouth, his hard cock was slippery with pre-cum. “You want my cock, don’t you?”

 

My chest fluttered. “Yes,” I whispered.

 

Gripping his shaft in his hand, he pushed the head closer, spreading the pre-cum around my lips. “I bet you do,” he growled. “You love it. In your mouth, in your hole. Bet you can’t wait until that beer finishes its trip and it’s time to feed you.”

 

Straining against the heavy, hairy thighs crushing my arms into my chest, I nodded. Fighting the temptation to reach out with my tongue and steal a little taste of the pungent, sweaty head as it traced its little circles, I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. Pounding inside my ribcage, my heart practically leapt against its confines, the perspiration on his legs mixing with the fresh sweat forming on my chest. “Yes, Sir,” I breathed.

 

The use of the title evidently struck a chord—groaning atop me, Chris leaned forwards. “Fuck. Open,” he ordered.

 

Obediently, my lips parted, and his cock slid past my open mouth. Even now I could still faintly test the acrid tang that was unmistakeably Sam, mixing with the delicate sweet and faintly sour that I understood to be myself. But overwhelming both of them was a salty, heady musk—blanketing the residual flavours, Chris’s taste quashed both and I strained my neck, struggling to get him further inside, needing more of it.

 

Above, Chris cooperated with the inefficient angle by taking some pressure off my chest. Balancing more on his shins he rose a bit, shifting his hips as we adjusted our alignment.

 

Satisfied with this new position, Chris paused, just holding the position. Below, I continued to swirl my tongue around his head and shaft, breathing through my nose. Then I felt him move—his pelvis pressing forward in a very slow, continuous thrust that brought his cock further. Panicking, I nearly choked as half a cock quickly became three quarters. Bumping the entrance to my throat, he ground his cock there, groaning as I gurgled and choked.

 

“Fuck, Daniel,” he groaned, grinding harder. “Fuck—more.”

 

Dizzy and flushed, my body jerked as I tried to cough and sputter around the rather sizeable gag I’d been presented with. I knew I had to keep breathing through my nose—but the unsuccessful gagging and coughing had already flooded my sinuses with relocated spit and mucus. Running down my nose, cheeks, mouth, it had even had begun to seep into the pubes pressing into my face.

 

Below, my cock began to harden.

 

“We’re going to have to train you to do this better,” he chuckled, giving a little push with his hips, eliciting a gag. “Although, honestly... I kind of like watching you choke.”

 

Below, my cock twitched.

 

Time passed. I was certain I was going to pass out—behind the blindfold, little stars were beginning to form. But then he pulled back, his rock-hard cock slimy and wet as I lurched forwards, wheezing in laboured pants.

 

Generously, he gave me a moment. Settling down next to me, one arm slipped underneath my back, pulling me close. Meanwhile, the other ran his index and middle fingers through the mixed splatter of saliva, snot, and pre-cum that had formed around the lower half of my face. Brushing it and gathering a nice little coating around the exploratory digits, he pushed them into my mouth. I could practically hear the grin in his voice. “What a mess you’ve made,” he observed as I suckled away.

 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I croaked around the intrusion.

 

Chuckling, Chris removed his fingers and shifted his weight so that he could overlook me. For a moment, I wondered if I was in trouble. But then, to my surprise, I felt his large flat tongue lap my cheek. Leaving a trail of his hot saliva in its path, it moved across my mouth, the little bridge underneath my nose, and then my chin before pulling away. Above I could hear him make squishing noises with one of his cheeks and then his tongue was back, cleaning up the other side of my face as it swept away the last of it the snot, pre-cum, and spit. Then his finger tapped my lips.

 

Open, it said, and my mouth parted.

 

Leaning in, Chris spat out the mix before pressing in with a crushing kiss, mashing his beard into my face as his thick tongue spread the viscous blend to every corner. All but wrapping my tongue in it as he swirled his around mine, his hand stroked the side of my arm gently, and I could feel the tension melting away leaving nothing but the humming need that buzzed through my bloodstream.

 

It also occurred to me that I was now hard.

 

Swallowing his gift dutifully, I could feel his mouth curl into a smile as our blended fluids traveled past my gullet. Stroking my side gently, he pulled away. Through our heavy pants and a grin that I could hear, he leaned in close. “It’s okay baby,” he whispered. “Just means I’ll have to keep fucking your face until you get the hang of me.” And for a moment we just paused there—taking a moment to recover as he considered what he wanted next. He arrived at his choice quickly. “Know what I haven’t had in a while?” he asked.

 

“No Sir,” I answered softly.

 

“A good rimming. But I bet you’d like to give me that though, wouldn’t you?” he growled. “Lord knows you want to stick every other part of my body into your mouth. What do you think boy? Think you can clean me up? And really get that tongue of yours up my ass?”

 

My breathing hitched. Schooling my features into a poker face, I wet my lips. “I think if that’s what you want, Sir,” I murmured, “What kind of boy would I be if I didn’t?”

 

“I haven’t cleaned up like you,” he warned, voice low as if threatening me with it. “It’ll be sweaty. Maybe even ripe. Sometimes that scares little boys away. Think that’s going to be a problem?”

 

“Not at all,” I whispered. “Whatever Sir wants.”

 

“Good answer.”

 

Then he was sitting up and I heard the crisp fizz of a cap between twisted off a bottle. Displacing the bed as his knees surrounded my face, balancing his weight on his shins, he took a long swig of the lager and then began to descend.

 

Nutty, earthy, salty, musky; bombarding my nose as the hairy crack of his ass lowered itself onto my face I leaned up, straining my neck as I buried myself in his wiry fur. Inhaling deeply, I shivered, captivated by the sheer potency of his odour and opened my mouth. Beginning by suckling at the interior of one of his cheeks, my tongue reached and delved into the layer of sweat that had begun to form. Responding with a rumbling groan, Sir took another swig, then pushed back, scratching my face lightly as he ground into it hard.

 

“Fuck—you’re eager aren’t you?”

 

I was. In the same way that Chris evidently didn’t find many boys down to eat him, my predilection to go with the flow meant I didn’t typically voice my appreciation for this part of the oral realm. But it was something of a guilty pleasure. And the way his crack bore down on me, my lips would press the little pinched muscles forming his pucker out of the way and let my tongue really dig into each nook to uncover the pinches of nutty, manly earthiness—my own little heaven. Taking my time, I teased deliberately, ensuring that no skin was left unturned as I cleaned every square millimeter around his hole.

 

“God damn...” he growled, reaching down to spread a cheek, granting better access to his hole. Accepting the invitation, my tongue pushed against his tight entrance. Overwhelmed by the salty strength of the flavour I had to catch myself—forcing myself to focus on the task at hand as the tip of my muscle teased and tested, looking for an angle where it could form the wedge I needed here.

 

He was definitely enjoying himself—letting out all manner of grunts and throaty rumbling noises between swigs of his refreshment. But I wasn’t going to be happy with ‘enjoying’—I wanted him to unravel and I was getting nowhere fast with my current methods.

 

Evidently, Chris hadn’t been kidding about not doing this often.

 

Then an idea occurred; my hands reached up. And despite being clasped together I managed to get them in a position where there was some leverage to pull in opposite direction. Digging into the corners of his cheeks, just below my chin, my fingers tugged while my tongue searched.

 

Bingo.

 

Had my mouth not been preoccupied, I might have smiled. But there were other priorities right now. Worming in closer, I worked the little sliver I’d formed, pleased as a bit more of my tongue managed to squeeze into his tight asshole.

 

“Jesus,” he gasped, his legs shaking for just a moment as he leaned over to drop the bottle into the trash. While it clattered noisily against its brother, Chris was already rebalancing, breathing hard, and using both of his hands to now spread his cheeks to give me the access I had really been looking for. “Why the fuck didn’t we start with this?” he wondered aloud.

 

Grinning, I shoved my tongue inside further.

 

“Jesus,” he groaned, louder this time.

 

Not bad, I considered, but maybe we can do better. Slowly, deliberately, I withdrew my tongue, slurping up the earthy flavour as I went. And once retracted about halfway, I paused—just enough to let him consider the next move—and then pushed back in as hard as I could.

 

“Jesus!” he roared. Finally satisfied, I repeated the motion, drinking his salty musk with each successive thrust. Building speed gradually, I was pleased when he began to push back harder, forcing my tongue past the sphincter to delve into the nutty, funky, headiness beyond.

 

And just as the flavour was becoming fainter, he pulled off my face, tearing off the blindfold off my eyes as he left. Staring down at me, his face was red and sweaty, his cock nearly purple as if it was ready to burst. Rising and falling in time with his heavy panting, his chest was shiny with sweat, giving the soaked fur the look of copper wire in the lamplight. Meanwhile, his mouth opened and shut, bobbing like a fish as he failed to come up with the words.

 

Smiling up at him innocently, I held my tongue, arms trembling with suppressed laughter.

 

“Well,” he finally started, then paused, pondering his next words for a moment. Then his hands were on mine, touching the leather straps briefly before settling on the clasp holding them together. With a click, the metal ring released, and he pulled my hands apart. “I think you’ve earned these.”

 

I couldn’t resist. “Thank you, Sir,” I chimed.

 

Narrowing his eyes, he gave me what might have been a glare, but then dissolved the leery stare with a snort. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he growled. “Hands and knees. Now.”

 

While I scrambled into position, he was already moving behind me. “You’re going to want to take some,” he warned as the poppers landed in front my face. And while I twisted the cap off, I heard the pop of the lube bottle opening, followed by the slicking sound of his hand on his cock. Hurriedly, I inhaled deeply in each nostril, feeling my ass muscles relax with each breath as the flush spread throughout my body.

 

Where earlier had been gentle and he’d eased himself into me gradually, this time was different. Three of the fingers he’d slicked his cock with went in, shoving in roughly, with little regard for the delicate tissues. And after just one twist to spread the lube about they were gone, replaced with the tip of his dick as he nudged my entrance.

 

Gripping my hips hard, he let out a low rumble, and pushed hard. Yelping as my muscles tensed involuntarily in spite of the poppers, he slid in fast, jostling on in with one long hard stroke. Then, while still holding one side of my waist, his other hand reached forward and pushed the top of my back, indicating he wanted me lower. Complying, I folded onto my forearms, being sure to keep the bottle nearby just in case.

 

Stretching my walls with his pulsing erection, my ass gripped him hard, almost dragging with him slightly despite the lubrication as he reared back, sliding out oh so slowly.

 

“You teased me earlier,” he observed.

 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I whimpered, straining over my shoulder so I could see the dark expression tinting his features.

 

“Didn’t seem sorry when you were being a smart ass earlier,” he replied dismissively, lifting his arm. Turning away, I shut my eyes.

 

Crack!

 

Sucking in a gasp at the impact, the sharp red pain spread outwards from from the cheek and up my spine, linking up with the pleasure senses mucking about in my head as they rolled into one sensation. Meanwhile, Chris’s hands were back on my hips, digging in hard as he thrust back in hard.

 

In this position, more depth was possible and I found my mouth just hanging open, clutching the bottle and sheets as he pounded into me. Like a piston he set a brutal pace, stroking across my prostate and dislodging more pre-cum into the substantial stain that was forming in the pouch.

 

“Chris—” I moaned, but either he didn’t hear me or didn’t care. Grunting and snarling as he fucked me hard, he pressed onwards with fervor. Within moments I had been reduced to a mewling mess and reached back for my own hard cock. Moving the pouch aside, I wrapped my fingers around it, stroking it as best I could in rhythm with his thrusts.

 

I could feel it coming close—between the battering inside me, the slick friction, and the lack of orgasm earlier I desperately wanted to cum. But then he stopped, breathing hard, leaving me whining at the loss of motion as he simply held position—cock half-inserted so there was deliberately no pressure against my prostate. Eyeing my adjusted posture suspiciously, he licked his lips. “And what do we have here?” he murmured, leaning in closer as he reached down, enveloping my grip in his. “Someone is hard.”

 

Whimpering, I nodded.

 

Gingerly, he extricated my hand as his began its own assessment. Starting with my foreskin, his rough fingers pinched the folds, grinding them together as he started to push his cock back in to the root. Once slipped under my foreskin, his hand continued onto my sensitive cock-head, brushing their calloused pads and the tips of the fingernails over the glans. Spreading the little slit between two of the nails, he pressed in, making me whine as he rubbed the opening of my urethra painfully. Satisfied, he gathered my pre-cum in his slick hand, and lowered his grip to my shaft.

 

“You’re very lucky you’re cute,” he growled, and resumed thrusting.

 

I had already been close. But between his coarse, slippery palms stroking me so they just brushing the top of my head, and the slower, more deliberate thrusts that all but dug into my swollen nub before sliding all the way in—I wasn’t going to last. Digging my nails into the sheets, I pleaded incoherently, moving my hips in time with his thrusts.

 

“Chris,” I gasped. “It’s—I can’t—please—”

 

“Do it,” he breathed.

 

Clamping down on his cock, my muscles stiffened as I spurt into his hand, making him groan and lean back as he shut his eyes. Stilling himself momentarily, he let out a slow exhalation through his nose—adjusting to the vice-like grip of the velvety tissue.

 

Holding his position, he pulled his cum-coated hand away from my softening sock. Smearing my load around his fingers as he moved it towards my hole, he pushed against his wiry pubes, prodding the edge of my tightened pucker with the tip of his nail. Sensing what was coming next, I uncapped the bottle and sniffed hard, sucking in the nitrites as he pressed harder, breaching the already-snug fit as it slid alongside his throbbing member, scraping the nerves as he buried himself to the knuckle.

 

Whimpering at the intrusion, I re-capped the bottle and arched my back, struggling to feel more. “Oh god,” I whispered.

 

“Tonight,” he breathed, grinding his hips forward into my beaten hole as he spoke. “I’m gonna get someone else in there with me. And really rip this hole open.”

 

“You really think we’ll be able to do that?” I gasped, shutting my eyes as I just focused on the throbbing, burning, tingling spreading through the nerves.

 

“Absolutely,” he grunted, twisting the digit, making sure I felt the burn. “And if you can’t, we’ll make you. Hell, I even know who I’m calling,” he continued, rubbing a second finger against my entrance. Forcing it in alongside its brother, he glanced down, eyeing his handiwork with a hungry look, letting out a groan of satisfaction. “Christ, Daniel...”

 

Mewling into the sheets, I bit my lip. “Promises, promises,” I chimed, earning a snicker.

 

“That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble one day,” he growled. And then the fingers were gone, leaving my ass alone with cock. And if the earlier pace had felt rough, I didn’t even have a word for this. Slamming in and out, he battered my spent hole, ripping yelps from my throat on the rougher strokes and I had no doubts that I would be tender and sore when this was over. Slapping his balls hard with each thrust, yanking my walls with each shove, he attacked my hole in a frenzy. Even if I’d screamed Zebra I doubted it would have reached him. So instead I held on—leaning into the fever pitch, knowing that between the tightness, roughness, and pace it was clear he wanted to finish too.

 

It didn’t take long. Another minute, maybe two? And I could feel his cock throbbing—stiffening up and expanding in preparation to mark me once more. His fingers dug in harder, and then came the roar.

 

“FUCK DANIEL!” he bellowed, drowning out my moan, his balls swaying as his body stilled. And deep inside me his pulsating member jerked, reacting to the shudder running through his body as it drove in to the root and unloaded in five thick pumps—his second gooey load meeting and merging with the remnants of its brother as the wetness spread through my guts.

Edited June 4, 2020 by vagabond